One Heart Dropped, One Heart Stopped
by coffeebean7
Summary: Neal goes undercover for an operation to catch a murderer and thief. Things go from bad to worse and someone won't make it out alive. This is my first fanfiction (or at least the first posted here) so please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**_Okay, this is my first fan-fiction, so if you read the whole thing, please review! I would really love some feedback! _**

**_There's no specific spoilers in this piece! Just a few quotes from various seasons, but they give nothing away!_**

**_Quick disclaimer, I don't own White Collar or any of its characters (although I wish I did!). White Collar is a fantastic show by USA! _**

* * *

"Neal!" Peter shouted across the office, jogging towards Neal. His CI froze with one hand on the elevator button and turned towards Peter.

"Peter, it's 9 o'clock at night and the coffee still sucks. I'm going home." Neal said in a defeated voice.

"Cowboy up, Neal. We can't all have Italian roast every day." Peter said as he reached where Neal was standing. "I just wanted to talk to you about the operation tomorrow."

"Haven't we gone over everything? I'm pretty sure our contingency plans have contingency plans."

"Neal, this is serious. You're going undercover with a known murderer who's got an entire underground network to back him up. We have to be very careful on this one Neal." Peter was staring at Neal intently, watching the young man for any signs of uncertainty. "You've got to be on your game this time or this is going to go south real quick. Are you still sure you want to do this?"

"Peter, this guy is responsible for the deaths of at least 7 people in the last month alone. He broke into a museum and not only took the lives of those inside, but he also destroyed countless priceless pieces of art." Neal stared directly at Peter, choosing his words carefully. "I will do everything I can to stop this guy."

"Good, that's what I was hoping to hear," Peter sighed in relief. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7 so we can do one last brief with everyone before the meet." He said as the elevator opened.

"Sure, Peter. See you then!" Neal stepped inside the elevator and waved his hat at Peter as the doors closed.

_X X X_

Neal rolled over lazily, glancing at the clock.

_7:17_

"Oh my god," He leaped out of bed, heart thumping wildly in his chest. If he was late, Peter was going to kill him, or worse, take him off the case. "Shit!"

He ran around the room until he found a pair of questionably clean pants. He hopped to the bathroom on one leg, trying unsuccessfully to walk and dress at the same time, and grabbed his toothbrush.

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!" Toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth, he flew around his room, looking for a shirt. Suddenly, he heard knocking on the door. The toothbrush fell out of his mouth.

"Mother F—"

_X X X_

_I'm going to kill him, _Peter thought to himself as he stood outside Neal's door at June's house. He had been downstairs for 20 minutes waiting for Neal to come out, he even called him, but got no response. Nervous and irritated, he had decided to check up on him. He was just about to knock again when the door flew open. His mouth dropped open as he stared at a half-naked and clearly disheveled Neal.

"You're late," Neal said casually, stepping aside and inviting Peter in with a sweep of his hand.

"You're not wearing a shirt," he muttered as he stepped inside Neal's loft. "And I'm not late, you are!"

"How observant, I see why they made you a detective." Neal said sarcastically, shutting the door. "My phone was on silent and my alarm didn't go off. Give me just a second and we can go." He said as he walked into his closet.

"You—" Peter sputtered, then, giving up, he sighed and sat down at Neal's table. "Just hurry up!" He shouted to Neal.

A few minutes later, Neal came out in one of his favorite Devore suits.

"Let's go!" He smiled at Peter as he flipped on his fedora and walked out the door.

"You still look like a cartoon," Peter muttered, following him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, so the plan is that Neal will meet with Veraz at his company building, one we know to be a front as the only thing Veraz actually does is steal and murder. Neal will be going under as Nick Halden, an interested buyer for the paintings Veraz recently stole. Once the sale is final, we'll arrest Veraz and everyone else in the building for the murders of the museum staff and the destruction and theft of priceless art." Peter stood at the front of the room, looking over all of his team. He was basically ignoring the Harvard crew and was speaking directly to Diana, Jones and Neal. This entire plan hinged on them, especially Caffrey.

"Jones and Diana, you'll be with me in the van," he continued. "We'll be a block away with SWAT on speed dial in case anything goes wrong. Neal, you'll be finalizing the deal with Veraz. You'll be off anklet, but we'll give you the watch for communication. Diana has spent weeks building connections to get us this close to Veraz, so we've got to be extremely careful on this one. This may be our only chance to catch this guy and put him away for good." Peter sighed as Neal raised his hand. "What Neal?"

"I was just wondering what my safe word is. Don't undercover agents get a safe word?" Peter couldn't tell if he was being completely serious or not.

"We're going with 'Degas' since this is an art deal, and one of the paintings that got destroyed was a famous Degas. You can work with that right?" Neal's eyes darkened at the mention of the destruction of precious art.

"Yeah, that works."

Peter paused, looking at his watch. "All right guys, we've got a few hours to prepare, lets go!"

_X X X_

"_Before we finish this deal, tell me why you took these particular paintings, but destroyed countless other pieces worth millions."_ Neal's voice crackled over the receiver in the van.

"Dammit Neal! What are you doing?!" Peter shouted, only to be shushed by Diana.

"_What do you mean, Mr. Halden?" _Veraz said.

_"I'm not a fool, and you know it. You went into that museum, killed innocent people, destroyed priceless art and stole pieces not even half as valuable as those. Why?"_

_ "If you're suggesting that I had anything to do with that horrible crime, I'm afraid you're wrong. I got these from someone else."_

_ "You and I both know that's not true. And after meeting you, I can tell that we're similar in the fact that we both appreciate beauty. You wouldn't have destroyed those pieces, yet they are damaged beyond repair."_

"What is he doing?! He's going to blow the operation!" Peter stood up abruptly, pacing in the small space of the van.

"Peter! Quiet, Neal might be on to something!" Diana shouted at him. "He could be going for a full confession."

"Why can he never follow simple instructions?" Peter muttered as he sat back down.

_"Let's stop playing games here," Neal said. "Let me guess, the paintings in the museum were fakes. You replaced them beforehand with copies and took the originals to sell off later. But you would need someone on the inside to get away without anyone noticing. Who'd you buy off?"_

There was silence all around.

_"You're more intelligent than the FBI gives you credit for Mr. Caffrey." _


	3. Chapter 3

_"You're more intelligent than the FBI gives you credit for Mr. Caffrey."_

Peter's heart stopped. Both Diana and Jones had gone pale and silent as they listened carefully to the receiver. Diana's hand whipped out, grabbing her radio in an instant.

"All units go! Caffrey's cover has been blown! We need all units into action! Suspect may be armed!" She shouted into the radio.

"Let's go! NOW!" Peter shouted, grabbing the earpiece receiver so he could hear Neal. He released his gun from its holster as he, Diana and Jones jumped out of the van and took off running towards Neal.

_"I don't know what you're talking about," _Neal said calmly.

_ "Now who's playing games, Neal? I know who you are and why you're here. I always have. Just like I know your FBI friends are about to storm this building." _

"SHIT!" Peter yelled, running faster towards the building. Agents were all around them now, surrounding the building.

_"Then why did you let me get this far?"_

_ "I wanted to see The Great Neal Caffrey, the conman who got caught and turned against his own kind. It's kind of sad really. A shame to waste so much talent. You could have been great again, you know. If you hadn't sided with Peter Burke." _ There was a clicking sound that was all too familiar to Peter.

"_You know, I really don't like guns."_

"God DAMMIT! Secure the building NOW! Jones! Diana! Neal's on the third floor!" Peter burst through the doors to the building with Diana and Jones right behind him.

"_I am sorry about this, Neal. Truly."_

_ "Just tell me how you did it. How did you manage to switch out the paintings without anyone knowing? And why did you have to kill everyone in the museum?!" _Neal's voice was strained, desperate.

"_You're stalling, but alright. You deserve to know after figuring it out. The curator was working for me. I had him switch out the paintings the night before, after everyone was gone. He placed them behind the frames of the paintings I stole. The next morning before the museum opened, I came to collect my pieces, and the rest I believe you know."_

_ "You shot everyone in order to cover your tracks. You couldn't just kill the curator or it would have obviously look like an inside job, so you killed every innocent person in the building as well, you son of a bitch!"_

"Neal!" Peter shouted, running up the next flight of stairs. Two floors away.

_ "Ah, insulting the man pointing a gun at your chest is not the best plan, Neal. But yes, I did. I am surprised you figured it out without the help of your FBI friends. They should be arriving any minute now, so I really must go. I would hate to get caught now."_

_ "Wait! Stop! Don't—"_

The sound of a gunshot cracked sharply across the receiver and echoed through the staircase. Peter faltered a step.

"NEAL!"


	4. Chapter 4

"NEAL!" Peter shouted, propelling himself up the stairs, adrenaline pumping through is veins. One floor away.

"_Goodbye, Neal Caffrey. Say hello to Agent Burke for me, if you still can."_

"NEAL! NEAL!" Peter slammed his body against the third floor exit door, ramming his way into the hall. He ran down the hall, reaching the open office space where Neal was supposed to be. Diana and Jones spread out, clearing the area. Peter could hear Diana shouting into her radio again.

"We have an agent down! Repeat! Agent down, suspect on the loose and armed. Take him down by any means necessary!"

Peter searched for Neal, gun drawn just in case Veraz was still here.

"Neal! Where are you?" He shouted. He listened carefully, praying for any response. He heard a faint groan to his left, behind a massive desk. He ran towards the sound, then stopped in his tracks.

Neal was laying his back on the ground with a pool of blood slowly forming around him. Peter kneeled beside him, ripping open his jacket to check for a bullet wound. Neal's white shirt was rapidly turning red, blood seeping from a bullet wound to the left of his chest.

"Shit! Neal! Come on Neal, stay with me!" Peter was working on autopilot, covering the wound with his hands and applying as much pressure as he could. "NEAL! Dammit! Don't you dare go into shock!"

It was too late though, Neal started to shake, his eyes unfocused and his breathing sharp and labored.

"P-P'tr" Neal choked out, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. "I-I can't—"

"Neal, come on buddy! Stay with me! Stay with me, Neal!" Peter begged, on the verge of panicking himself. "Help is on the way! You're going to be fine, you hear me?"

Neal tried to respond, but couldn't. He was coughing, choking on his own blood and panicking because he couldn't breathe.

"Diana! HELP ME OVER HERE! He's choking! I need you to keep his head elevated and help me stop this bleeding! DIANA!" Peter shouted, his voice cracking, showing his desperation.

"Here, boss!" Diana kneeled beside him, gently lifting Neal's head. "Paramedics are almost here, just hold on Neal!"

Neal tried to look at her, but he couldn't keep his eyes focused.

_I can't-breathe-the pain-make it stop! PETER! _Neal screamed in his head. He could feel his body going into shock.

"Neal? NEAL!"

X X X

"I'm going with him!" Peter shouted at the EMT.

"Sir, your friend's not breathing and he has a massive gunshot wound to the chest. We need to work on him now! You'll have to follow behind! Now MOVE!" The EMT slammed the door shut and the ambulance took off, sirens screeching through the air.

"DAMMIT!" Peter whipped around, searching for a car.

"Boss! Over here!" Diana shouted as she hopped in the front seat of a police cruiser, an officer shouting and waving his hands frantically behind her. Peter took off running towards the car.

"Ma'am, you can't just—"

"FBI! Yes I can!" She started the car just as Peter jumped in the passenger seat. She gunned the engine and took off, nearly taking the frazzled officer with her.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter paced the hallway of the hospital, nervously waiting. All of the immediate officers had left after Peter gave them his statement. He had already alerted everyone to what had happened: Hughes, Elizabeth, June, Mozzie. There was nothing left to do but wait and it was driving him insane. Diana had left a few minutes ago in search of some answers into Neal's condition, but she had yet to return. Of everyone, he trusted Diana to get answers.

_"Out of all the people in my life—Mozzie, even Kate, you know—you're the only one."_

_ "You're the only person in my life I trust."_

Peter stopped pacing abruptly and stood silently, staring at his hands. He had washed his hands at least ten times, but still couldn't get the feeling of Neal's blood off of his hands. His hands may have been clean, but his clothes were still covered in dried blood. He started shaking, images flashing through his mind.

_"'Cause you're the only one who could change my mind!"_

_ "You're an FBI agent; I'm a con man. There are only a few ways this could have ended. This is one of the best."_

_ "I did the right thing!"_

_ "I did it for you, Peter!"_

_ "I will do everything I can to stop this guy."_

_ "P-P'tr…"_

_I need to sit down,_ Peter walked shakily over to the closest chair and all but collapsed, head in his hands. He didn't know how long he sat there, but suddenly someone was tapping his shoulder. He looked up to see a very tired looking Diana.

"What did you find out?" He asked quietly, not trusting his voice.

"Neal's still in emergency surgery. They've removed the bullet, but it nicked his lung. That's why he was coughing up blood." She paused, clearly remembering the traumatic scene. "He crashed twice." She said quietly, almost whispering. "Once in the ambulance and once on the table."

Peter could hear his heart thumping wildly in his chest. It was tearing him apart to think that Neal's heart went silent. He almost lost him.

"The doctors are still working on repairing the damage done by the bullet, and they're not sure if there will be any permanent damage by that or—" she broke of suddenly, not able to continue.

_Or if there will be any brain damage from lack of oxygen and blood. _Peter knew that there was always a chance of irreversible damage in patients who crashed. Peter looked at Diana, really looked, and saw that she was just as stressed as he was. She was still covered in blood as well, and there were already dark circles under her eyes. If he didn't know her better, he would have thought that she was about to cry or break down.

"Diana, why don't you go home? I can call you if anything changes. It's been a rough day and you could use the rest." Peter suggested.

Diana looked torn between wanting to stay and wanting to change out of her blood soaked clothes.

"You'll call me the second anything changes?" She looked directly at him as he nodded. "What about you?"

"Go home, Diana. El will be here in a few minutes with a change of clothes and we'll probably stay the night." Peter stood up and gave her a quick hug. "It'll be okay, I promise."

Diana stood for a moment, staring at him, then she nodded.

"Alright, but I'll come back up later, okay?" She said as Peter walked her towards the exit.

"I'll see you later then." Peter watched her leave, vaguely wondering what happened to officer whose car she had 'barrowed'.

X X X

A few minutes after Diana left, Elizabeth arrived. She gasped at the sight of all the blood on his suit and silently handed him a bag of fresh clothes. He took them, but remained still. She looked at him, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes, and he lost it. He collapsed in front of her, all of the day's adrenaline exhausted and all of his emotions crashing down on him. He cried silently as she held him.

"This is my fault," he choked out. "Neal's dying and it's all my fault."

X X X

Peter returned from the bathroom in the clothes El had brought him. He hadn't even bothered to save his suit. Even if it hadn't been ruined by the blood, he never wanted to see it again and left it in the trashcan. When he walked back to the waiting room, he immediately noticed El talking to a doctor and he ran over to her.

"What's going on?" He demanded, looking between El and the doctor.

"Peter, he won't tell me anything!" El said, frantically.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can only release information on Mr. Caffrey's condition to immediate family." The doctor said, sternly. Clearly this had not been the first time he had said this.

"My name is Peter Burke with the FBI, and I'm Neal's…partner. We are the only family he has, so tell me what's going on now or I swear to god I'll arrest you for obstruction." Peter all but growled at the man. The doctor sighed, and started talking gently.

"Mr. Caffrey came into this hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest. He suffered severe blood loss and the bullet nicked his lung, leaving him with blood in his lungs and very little oxygen. He crashed twice, but we were able to bring him back. We were able to repair most of the damage done by the bullet's course, but there is still a lot that can go wrong. Your friend is still in critical condition and is under observation for now." The doctor paused, waiting for the Burkes to say something.

"Will there be any permanent damage?" Peter asked quietly.

"It's too soon to tell. He will definitely have some restricted movement on his left side due to the muscle damage, but with time and physical therapy, that should all heal relatively well. Same goes for his lung. We've patched him up, so now it's up to him to heal." The doctor hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There is always a risk of some form of brain damage when a patient crashes, especially when there is already conditions of low oxygen levels. Mr. Caffrey may have some memory loss, but we'll only know that once he wakes up."

"Can we see him?" El asked the doctor gently.

After a moment's pause, the doctor nodded and led them to the ICU room where Neal had just been placed after surgery.

"Understand that he's heavily sedated and on a lot of pain medication, so he won't be awake for a while. He may come around for a few moments, but he won't know what's happening to him. Try to keep him as calm as possible." The doctor looked directly at Peter. "I have no idea how he got shot, but under no circumstances are you to interrogate him right now."

"I was there when he got shot," Peter said calmly to the doctor, not backing down. "I'm here as his partner and friend."

The doctor nodded, apparently satisfied, and left them outside the room.

"So…shall we go in?" El asked Peter gently. Peter remained silent as he opened the door and walked inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter walked inside the hospital room and felt his heart drop. Neal was laying in the bed, out cold and attached to numerous machines. His normally tan face looked deathly pale, almost colorless. His hair was a rumpled mess, matted in some places by dried blood the nurses had yet to remove. He looked so frail; a ghost of his confident self.

"Neal…" Peter walked to his side and took up permanent residence in the chair right next to his friend.

Elizabeth followed suit, taking the spot opposite of Peter. She sat down and started to smooth back Neal's hair from his face.

"We're here for you Neal, and we're not going anywhere."

X X X

Several hours later there had been no change in Neal's condition, which was both good and bad. He wasn't getting worse, but he also wasn't waking up.

Diana had stopped by again, as promised, looking refreshed but still shaken. She let Peter know that they were still searching for Veraz. She reassured him that they would catch the guy and make sure he could never hurt anyone ever again. She left determined, heading back to the office to help with the chase.

Jones had come by as well. He let Peter know that he had taken care of all of the paperwork for the case and had gotten everything in order. He even filled out the forms for Peter to request days off. Peter thanked him gratefully, signed the papers, and went back to Neal's side.

Mozzie came by with June to check in on Neal shortly after Jones left. Mozzie had said very little while he stared down at his closest friend's unconscious form, and Peter couldn't tell if his silence was due to his anger and hatred of Peter or his hatred of hospitals. Peter couldn't blame Moz for hating him. After all, it was his fault Neal was in this condition. He had placed Neal in the position where he could get hurt, and he almost died. In Peter's mind, it was as if he had pulled the trigger himself.

After Mozzie left, June stayed for a while longer. Playing mother hen with El as they both talked to him, smoothed his hair, and held his hands. Peter couldn't decide if Neal would love the attention or shy away from it.

Soon it was just Peter. June had left and El had gone home to take care of Satchmo and change clothes. She had tried to encourage Peter to come home with her, but he refused. He wanted to wait until Neal woke up.

Neal seemed restless, constantly moving his head and groaning in pain. The nurses had been in several times to adjust his medicine, but nothing seemed to be helping. At one point, Peter was afraid Neal would pull his stitches he was moving so much. Peter reached over and held Neal's hand tightly.

"Neal, you have to calm down. You're going to make matters worse if you keep moving around."

Neal visibly relaxed, as if comforted by Peter's voice. He settled down and all of the machines he was hooked up to settled into a steady pattern as well. Peter stay still, staring down at his friend.

"I'm so sorry, Neal" he whispered. "Please, just—I'm sorry."

X X X

At first, he didn't feel a thing. He felt almost weightless and carefree. He couldn't tell what was happening or what had happened, and truthfully, he didn't care. It was so quiet. So calm.

Then, everything came crashing back.

_"You're more intelligent than the FBI gives you credit for Mr. Caffrey." _

There was a loud noise…a gunshot…and pain…so much pain.

"_Goodbye, Neal Caffrey. Say hello to Agent Burke for me, if you still can."_

He was choking! His lungs burned and his shoulder was…._god it hurt!_

_I can't-breathe-the pain-make it stop! PETER!_

His heart started beating faster and faster. _No! Have to calm down! Think, Caffrey! Breathe! _He was going into shock, adrenaline pumping through his veins and out through the wound in his chest. It felt like he was drowning…dying….

_"P-P'tr"_

_ Help me! _He screamed out in his mind, unable to voice his pain out loud. He could feel _everything_…it was too much….his heart kept trying to save him, beating for all it's worth…and then he gave in, and his heart gave out.

_"Neal? Neal!"_

"NEAL!"


	7. Chapter 7

"NEAL!" Peter yelled frantically. He had dozed off for a few minutes and next thing he knew, Neal was screaming, thrashing around as alarms went off on almost all of his machines.

"Neal, you've got to calm down, buddy! Neal! It's me! Peter!" Peter tried everything to calm him down, but the young man continued to cry out in pain.

Within minutes, nurses flooded the room and bustled him out. He almost refused to go, but just as he opened his mouth to protest, Neal let out a cry that almost broke his heart. Peter let himself be led from the room and placed in a chair just outside the room. Head in his hands he waited for news, trying to block out the cries from within the room. Suddenly, everything went quiet.

The door opened, making Peter jump, and a young, tired looking nurse walked out. Peter was on his feet immediately, asking her what had happened.

"Your friend was moving a lot earlier and he must have accidently done something to his morphine drip." She said gently, as if trying to calm Peter down. "He's fine now, but he was getting little to no pain medication for the last few hours. We upped the dose and sedated him for now. He should be alright, but holler if anything changes." She smiled at him and walked away, a few nurses from the room following her out.

_Little to no pain medication,_ Peter cringed, _Jesus, Neal! _The poor guy had to have been in excruciating pain and unable to let anyone know.

Peter walked carefully back into the room and sat back down beside Neal.

"I'm here, Neal. I'll always be here for you."

X X X

"P-Peter…"

Peter woke up with a jolt, groaning at the knot in his neck from sleeping in the hospital chair. Rubbing his neck, he glanced at his watch wondering what had woken him.

"…Peter?"

Peter jumped up and hovered by Neal's side. He stared intently at the young man as his eyes flickered. Finally, Neal's eyes opened and he looked around, as if he was searching for something. His gaze settled on Peter and a small smile came to his lips. Although in his condition, it looked more like a grimace.

"Hey, Neal. How are you feeling?" Peter said quietly, not trusting his voice.

"Like I've been hit by a bus…" Neal's raspy voice croaked.

"Do you remember what happened?" Peter asked gently, trying to gauge if there was any short term memory loss from him crashing. When Neal frowned and didn't respond, Peter panicked. "Neal? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…." Neal paused, as if struggling to remember. "Was I-did I get shot?" Neal looked up at Peter, confusion written across his face.

"Yeah, do you remember anything else?"

"Umm…..something to do with Degas? That can't be right…" Panic flickered across his eyes. "I didn't…. Peter, what happened?"

Peter smiled gently down at him and took the seat beside him.

"Degas was your safe word, not that you used it." Peter frowned at the man, unable, however, to be angry at him. "Tell me the last thing you remember."

"I was…I was in my room, trying to get ready…I was late, I think….." Neal paused and Peter sat silently, waiting for him to continue. "We were on a case and I was going undercover to….to buy stolen art, right?" Peter nodded, but said nothing, wanting Neal to remember on his own. "Something went wrong…Veraz…there was something off about him….and then….nothing, I'm sorry but that's all I remember."

"That's okay, Neal. You did great, kid." Peter patted his good shoulder. "You did great."

Neal turned his head and squinted at Peter, smirking.

"Was that a complement? I must have been in pretty bad shape for you to say that!" Neal laughed lightly, then winced. "Owwww…..okay, that hurt." Peter jumped to his feet again, immediately looking around for a nurse.

"Hold on, Neal, let me go find a nurse. You're going to be okay!" Peter looked on the verge of panic.

"Peter! Calm down! I'm fine, it was just karma for making fun of you!" Neal gestured at the seat next to him. "Come on, sit down and tell me what happened."

Peter stood for a moment before returning to Neal's side. Neal finally got a chance to really look at Peter and was shocked by what he saw. The man looked like he hadn't had a good night sleep in days and seemed tense and stressed. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was paler than normal.

"Peter?" Neal said quietly. "Peter, are you okay?" When he didn't respond, Neal reached out and placed his hand on top of Peter's. "Hey, talk to me."

"We almost lost you, Neal." Peter said quietly, staring intently at the floor. "You almost died…technically, you did die…twice."

Neal looked shocked, then glanced down at his body and the machines around him. He couldn't really feel much, but he could tell it was bad.

"Peter…what happened to me?" Neal said quietly. Peter looked up, tears starting to form in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Neal." Startled, Neal looked at Peter who had resumed staring at the floor.

"Wha—"

"You got shot and I almost lost you…" Now it was Peter who was struggling for words. "I just—"

"It's okay, Peter." Peter looked up sharply, Neal was smiling gently at him as he held his hand. "I'm okay and I'm not going anywhere."

The tension drained out of Peter as his shoulders started to shake. He hid is face with his free hand, not wanting to cry but dammit if he didn't start crying anyway. _Great! This is just perfect! Having a breakdown while your best friend just woke up after being out for days!_

"Peter!" He looked back at Neal, his sight blurry. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

"I promise everything's going to be okay."

* * *

**_Okay so this was my first fanfiction I've ever published, so what did you guys think? I would absolutely love any kind of feedback! Please tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!_**


	8. Chapter 8

"There is no way in hell that I'm letting you work this case. Go home, Neal."

"Peter, listen—"

"No."

"Peter I—"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"What if—"

"No."

Jones sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He was _so _tired of this argument. Every day, Caffrey would try to convince Peter to let him back on the case. And every day, Peter would say the same thing: no.

"But Peter—"

"No, Neal."

"What about—"

"Can we, just for sanity's sake, assume that everything your thinking of saying will be met with a resounding 'No.'" Jones pleaded, speaking directly to Neal.

"And if the answer to that is no," Diana chimed in. "Then be aware that I'm a few seconds away from pointing my gun at the both of you." She glared at her boss and Caffrey, who stared back at her, shocked.

"Umm…." For once, Neal was completely speechless. The office was filled with a tense silence until Neal regained his voice, turning back to his handler. "But seriously, Peter—"

"I swear, Caffrey! I'll do it!" Diana jumped up from her seat, but was quickly blocked by Jones, who proceeded to shuffle her out of the room.

"I think we're going to call it a night!" Jones shouted over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

"Well that's just great," Peter muttered as he stood up and started pacing the office. "You just got out of the hospital for one gunshot wound a week ago and your co-workers already want to shoot you. That has to be a record!"

"Well, there was this one time in—" Neal stopped talking abruptly and started smiling. "_Allegedly, _there was this one time when I—"

"Oh, give it a rest, Neal." Peter sat back down, head in his hands. "You know why I can't let you back on this case. Veraz _shot _you, Neal. He wasn't planning on you living through that, and yet you want to jump right back in to the fire!"

"I can't go undercover again, for obvious reasons, but I can still help! I know some people that can try to get close to him. They could—"

"There is no 'they', Neal. I know you're talking about Mozzie and we're sure as hell not bringing him in on this. Are you _trying_ to give Diana an excuse to shoot someone?"

"She wouldn't really…" Peter raised an eyebrow and Neal faltered. "Well…maybe he could work from my place?"

"How about _you _go home so _I_ can go home. Then we all win." Peter stood up, grabbed his coat, and started walking out the door. "Come on, Neal, let's just call it a night."

Peter watched carefully as Neal struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his crutches. He knew better than to try and help, so he simply waited on stand-by, just in case. As Neal casually wobbled past him, Peter sighed.

"You shouldn't even be here." Peter muttered Neal grabbed his coat and hat. "You're supposed to be at home for the next week and a half. You were given strict instructions to rest and only rest."

"Yeah, but that's boring." Neal said, smiling as he pushed the elevator button. "And I really want to help stop this guy. He did shoot me after all, it's only natural to want to help stop him."

_"I will do everything I can to stop this guy." _Peter flinched at the memory of their last conversation in front of this elevator.

_"You're more intelligent than the FBI gives you credit for Mr. Caffrey."_

"Neal," Peter tried to ignore the catch in his voice as haunting memories plagued his thoughts. "I just don't think it's a good idea. You can help a little around the office, but I don't want you involved in this case, okay?"

"Yeah, I understand," Neal said, clearly disappointed.

They rode the elevator in silence; Peter unsure of how to comfort his friend, Neal unsure of how to convince his friend. When they reached the exit, Peter paused, looking at Neal.

"I can give you a ride, if you want," Peter said casually. "You could even come over to my house. I think El's making lasagna and I'm sure she'd love the company."

"No thanks, I think I'm just going to catch a cab and head home." Neal said, not meeting Peter's eyes. "It's been a long day."

Peter watched his friend carefully for a moment. Neal was leaning heavily on his crutches and his breathing was strained and shallow. He was paler that he had been earlier in the day and was in obvious pain-though unwilling to admit it.

"You're not going to take a cab, that's ridiculous." Peter said, grabbing Neal's arm and steering him towards his car. "I'll drop you off."

"Thanks, Peter," Neal whispered as he got in the car.

"No problem, Neal. Anytime."

X X X

Neal reached his door after several stops on the stairs. _I really should have taken something for this, _he thought to himself as he fumbled for a key. He was just about to unlock the door when he noticed a small package on the floor. He had been receiving 'care-packages' the last few days and thought nothing of it as he picked up the box and opened the door.

Once inside, he set the package down and looked for a card.

_Hope you have a fast recovery. Looking forward to seeing you again._

_V_


	9. Chapter 9

"Peter, is that you? How was work today? Did Neal show up?" Peter had just walked in his house and was immediately greeted by Satchmo and the smell of lasagna. Elizabeth peaked her head around the corner of the kitchen and smiled at the look on her husband's face. "He did, didn't he? I warned you not to take that bet! I win and you get to clean up after dinner, mister!"

"I really didn't think he'd come in." Peter said, frowning. "You should have seen him, El, he was flinching every time he moved. I mean, he tried hiding it at first, but once it was just us, the color practically drained from his face. I thought Mozzie told you he was doing better?"

"Well, Mozzie said Neal was improving, but getting restless." El corrected, setting the table. "You know Neal, he can never sit still and being in the hospital for so long didn't help that. He just needs something to do. Maybe you should give him some old case files to go through?"

"I did!" Peter said exasperated. "I gave him a whole box of them just after he got out of the hospital, but he's apparently gone through them all. There's only so much I can do, Hun, and now he's trying to convince everyone that he should be back on the Veraz case."

Elizabeth paused, halfway back to the table with two plates of lasagna, and turned to look at her husband.

"Peter, he definitely shouldn't be working on that case! He almost died! He shouldn't be anywhere near Veraz!"

"That's what I said! But trying to get Neal to listen is pointless!"

Just as Peter sat down at the table, his phone rang. Sighing, he looked down at the phone, noticing it was a blocked number. Cautiously he answered the call.

"Peter Burke, who is this?" He demanded.

"_Did you like my gift?" A disembodied voice replied._

"Who is this? What gift?" An icy chill crept down Peter's spine.

"_I thought he would like it. I hope you can get to him in time, Agent Burke. I would hate for you to be too late again." _

"Who—" The line disconnected and went silent. "Shit! Neal!" Peter was dialing Neal's number as he jumped up from the table and grabbed his keys.

"Hun? What's going on?" Elizabeth was right behind him as he ran out the front down, heading towards his car.

"I think Neal's in trouble and he's not answering his phone. Dammit Neal!" Peter shouted, ripping open his car door.

"Okay, you go check on Neal and I'll keep trying to get ahold of him or Mozzie. Be careful, Hun." Elizabeth closed his door and stood back as he drove away.

* * *

_**Sorry for the short chapter! I promise to post more soon!**_


	10. Chapter 10

Neal was just about to take the lid off the box when Peter burst in, nearly taking off the door, gun in hand.

"Neal!" Peter rushed over to his shocked friend. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I think you just killed my door," Neal had an amused smirk on his face as he looked at the frazzled agent. "Why wouldn't I be okay? What are you doing here?"

"I got this weird call a few minutes ago and I thought you might be in danger." Peter visably relaxed as he holstered his gun.

"Nope, I'm fine. How did you get here so fast?"

"I broke several speed limits." Peter said sheepishly, looking at his feet. He noticed that Neal still had his shoes on as well. And he was still wearing the same suit, he hadn't even taken his jacket off yet. "Did you just get in? I left you downstairs at the door 20 minutes ago."

Now it was Neal's turn to look embarrassed. He looked away and mumbled something about having difficulties with the stairs. Peter really looked at Neal and was shocked by what he saw. Neal was somehow even paler than he had been at work. Peter winced internally as he remembered how difficult it had been for Neal to get up from the chair at the office and how taxing the stairs must have been for him.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Neal. I should have helped you inside."

"It's not a big deal, it just took me a bit longer than normal." Neal turned his attention back to the table where he had placed the small box that had been at his door. "Then I had to bend over for this package, which was not fun at all. I still have a few stiches that are giving me trouble."

Peter froze, halfway to the couch. "Neal," he said slowly. "What package?"

"I don't know, it's just this little box." He reached for the lid.

"Neal, no! Don't open that!" Peter shouted as he started to race towards him.

"What are you talking about?" Neal lifted the lid and heard a faint clicking sound. Immediately he whipped around towards Peter. "Peter, get down!"

"NEAL!"

Neal ran towards Peter, tackling him just as a massive explosion ripped through the room. Both men were thrown to the ground by the force of the blast and Peter's head slammed into the coffee table. He heard Neal cry out his name just before he lost consciousness.

X X X

Peter slowly came around, groaning at all the noise and chaos around him. He felt like someone was trying to drive a stake through his head as he tried to sit up. Gentle hands pressed down on his chest, softly pushing him back.

"Peter, hun, you have to lie back. The doctors don't want you moving too fast." A soft voice that sounded so familiar calmly coaxed him to lay back down.

"Elizabeth?" He murmured, trying to open his eyes. The room was so bright, he had to squint to see her. She was sitting next to him, looking worried. He glanced around and realized he was in the hospital. "What…what happened? Why am I—"

"Hun, there was an explosion in Neal's apartment." She said slowly, trying to keep him calm. "Do you remember that?"

It all started coming back to him: the phone call, the stairs, the box…the explosion….Neal.

"El, where's Neal? Is he okay?" He started to try and sit up again. Several alarms on the monitors around him went off and Elizabeth stood to tried to get him to calm down.

"Peter! You have to stop! You hit your head and you have a mild concussion. You need to rest."

"El, what about Neal! He was closer to the box!" Peter said frantically, waving away her hands as she tried to get him to lay back. He froze and stared at his hands: they were covered in gauze. "El….what?"

"Peter, please calm down." She looked on the verge of tears as Peter looked up at her. "It was an _explosion_ Peter. You have a concussion and several burns. They're not too bad, but you have to be careful. You were lucky and you didn't get hit with any shrapnel like—" She broke off suddenly and Peter got that all too familiar sinking feeling.

"El, tell me about Neal. Now." Peter said, his voice strained. "El, please. Is he okay?"

"He's—he's in surgery. There were several pieces of shrapnel from the bomb lodged in his back. It looked pretty bad but the doctor's said that his suit jacket protected him from some of the smaller pieces." Tears started to fall from the corners of her eyes as she continued. "You should have seen it, Peter. His jacket…what wasn't shredded was burnt and—" She stopped and looked away.

Peter looked down at his hands and arms. His hands were burnt, but his arms had very few burns and next to no cuts from the debris of the bomb.

"El, how did I—how do I not have any—" He looked back at her.

"The doctors think that…that Neal…" She looked torn and heartbroken as she stared down at her husband. "They think Neal used his body like a shield after you hit your head." She started crying as she sat down beside him. Peter tried to remember what happened. He remembered yelling for Neal not to open the box, but he was too late. There was a clicking sound, then Neal started running towards him and…Neal tackle him to the ground. Peter's head was swimming. _Neal shielded me from the blast,_ he thought to himself, _but at what cost. _


	11. Chapter 11

"And just where do you think you're going?" Peter froze, halfway out of the hospital bed, at the sound of his wife's voice. "Peter, there's this thing called resting and although I know it's an unfamiliar idea to you, you still need to do it." She was standing in the doorway to his room, arms crossed and attempting not to smile.

"El, Neal's been out of surgery for a few hours now and he should be waking up soon. I need to go see him." He pleaded as he resumed trying to get out of the bed.

Elizabeth looked torn, not wanting to help her husband disobey the doctor's direct order, but knowing how much Neal meant to Peter, to everyone, and sympathizing with the need to check in on him.

"Alright, fine." She sighed, grabbing the wheelchair in the corner of the room and quickly making her way over to Peter. "But if that head nurse catches us, you're on your own! She's terrifying!"

Peter smiled as he struggled to maneuver himself into the chair. He winced at the pain in his hands, still raw under the gauze from the burns.

"Alright, let's go see Neal."

X X X

It wasn't hard to find his room.

Just a few feet into the ICU, Peter noticed a rather large crowd of nurses hovering around a room. Peter panicked at the thought of Neal being in the condition to need all of these nurses.

Then he heard the singing.

_"Loooooovvvveeeee is a many splendor thing! It's the april rose that only grows in the early spppprrrrriiiiiinnnnnggg!"_

"Oh my god!" El started laughing the closer they got to Neal's room.

"Crap, they gave him morphine." Peter couldn't help but laugh as well.

_"Love is nature's way of giiiiivvvviiiiinnnnggg a reason to be llliiiiiivvvvviiiiinnnnggggg! The golden crown that makes a man a KKKIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!"_

"That boy is something else," one of the nurses standing outside Neal's room laughed.

"That's one way to put it! Even with the cuts and burns, he's gorgeous!"

As Neal's singing quieted down, the nursed dispersed and Peter and El were able to go inside his room. Peter was surprised to see that Neal had only a few minor cuts and burns outwardly visible.

"Hey buddy!" Neal said in an overly happy voice, "You know, I'm _really REALLY_ tired of being shot at!"

"Neal you weren't shot, we were in an explosion," Peter explained gently, not sure just how drugged Neal really was, or if he truly couldn't remember what had happened.

"That's totally the same thing!" Neal frowned, "there's a big boom and then pain and then nothing and then drugs. Same. Thing." Neal tried to look directly at Peter for emphasis, but he wasn't sure which of the four Peter's he was supposed to be looking at. "Why are there so many of you?" He winced and closed his eyes.

"What are you—" Before he could even finish his question, Neal was out like a light and snoring.

Elizabeth, who had been observing silently, started laughing. "Well, at least he's not singing." She offered a very frustrated Peter. "Although he is quite good."

"Uh-huh, a regular Frank Sinatra." Peter turned his chair around and looked for a clipboard on Neal's condition. "Hey, El, do you know who his doctor is?"

"That would be me," a middle aged man in a long white doctor's coat said as he walked over to Peter from the doorway. "And your friend has been very lively and entertaining ever since he woke up."

"Yeah, that happens when he's on any kind of drug, he gets a little…."Peter paused "vocal."

"Well, I would lower the dose, but unfortunately he needs every drop to counter the amount of pain he's in."

"What do you mean? He doesn't look like he's in pain, how badly burnt is his back?" Peter said, shocked.

"Stick around and see for yourself if you like, we're just about to change his bandages." Just as the doctor finished talking, three nurses came in, each carrying gauze.

Peter and El moved out of the way as the nurses and doctor carefully moved Neal onto his stomach so they could access his bandaged back. The bandages covered his entire back and Peter noticed that there were a few spots where blood was seeping through. As they started to remove the gauze, El gasped and quickly looked away.

Neal's back was a mess. There were deep gashes where the shrapnel had hit him, and most were apparently deep enough to warrant stitches. From the back of his neck down was badly burned, so much so that Peter had to look away as well. He could only imagine how badly burned the back of his arms and legs were as well.

"_Shit!" _Peter muttered, looking down at his own hands, mildly burned in comparison.

"It's definitely not a pretty sight to behold," said the doctor as he and the nurses replaced the gauze. "It took quite a while to remove all the pieces of metal from his back and that was before we had even been able to address the burns. This young man is luck to be alive and is clearly very resilient considering the fact that he has woken up enough to _sing." _

"How long do you think it will take for his back to heal?" Peter asked cautiously.

"It's hard to tell, maybe 3-4 months for the surface to heal enough for him to be able to do normal, daily activities. But he's going to have to take it easy to recover from injuries like these." The doctor turned away from Neal and glanced at Peter's wrapped hands. "I take it you were in the explosion as well?"

"Yes," Peter said quietly. "I owe Neal more than I can ever repay."

"Somehow I think he won't see it that way, he'll just be glad that you're okay. But if you truly want to repay him, be there for him and help him through this. He's going to need all the help he can get."

* * *

_**I'm sorry for the hiatus! I promise to write more soon! Please let me know what you think so far!**_


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